


tomorrow isn't that far

by foxwatson



Category: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
Genre: M/M, also slow dancing. or an attempt at slow dancing, but also it's a fic that's mostly about kissing, spoiler alert butch and sundance are not very good at slow dancing, this ended up as mostly a retelling of butch and sundance on the run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxwatson/pseuds/foxwatson
Summary: "I could kiss you, Kid, I really could.”This isn’t the first time Butch has said something like that. Actually, Sundance can’t remember the first time Butch said it. It’s always been a joke, a little passing comment, and he’d sigh and roll his eyes and Butch would give him that same old grin, those same bright eyes, and they’d stumble on along through whatever they happened to be in the middle of.
Relationships: Harry Longabaugh | Sundance Kid/Robert Parker | Butch Cassidy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	tomorrow isn't that far

**Author's Note:**

> title credit to orville peck's kansas (remembers me now) which perhaps influenced this fic more than i realized. i listened to a playlist that has. an extensive amount of orville peck while writing this, hopefully for obvious reasons.
> 
> in part this is inspired by the fact that in real life, butch and sundance (along with etta) did buy a ranch and spend a couple of years doing that before they got bored. obviously this version is no more like what really happened than the movie, and i'm leaning on the movie but. one time i did read about them getting a ranch together in argentina and kind of. misread where they ended up and. this fic is the result.

Butch is quieter than usual on the long run from LeFors. 

Whether it’s his practice in poker or gunfights or jail, Sundance has spent his whole life getting used to keeping his mouth shut and his expression closed off - but Butch usually can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. Actually, when he does, Sundance starts to worry.

The whole time they’re on the run, the silence settles between them. It makes Sundance jumpy. He can’t relax, because Butch clearly can’t either. They’re both tired and keyed up all at the same time, twitchy and irritable and filthy and exhausted. It doesn’t suit either of them.

When they manage some sleep, it’s always in shifts, back to back, and neither of them ever sleep for long.

Sometimes when they’re riding, Butch actually falls asleep in the saddle. When they’re still on two horses, Sundance rides close, takes the reins of Butch’s horse and makes sure he doesn’t get bucked off. While they share one, if Butch dozes off, Sundance finds himself the most relaxed when he can hear Butch’s steady breathing, feel it against his neck when Butch’s head nods back against his shoulder.

It’s easy to carry Butch’s weight. It feels like nothing. Sundance is happy to do it. Butch’d do the same. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s fallen asleep on Butch’s shoulder riding on the back of the saddle once or twice anyways.

When the chase is finally over, and they stumble out of the river onto dry land, Sundance lays flat on the ground and resists the urge to kiss the dirt. He’s never been so tired in all his life. Never been so sure he and Butch were about to meet their end - but here they are.

“I can’t believe you actually jumped. You really are a wild son of a bitch, Kid,” Butch says, still panting.

“Don’t talk about my mother like that. Isn’t her fault,” Sundance mumbles, cheek still pressed to the ground.

Butch laughs, nudges his foot against Sundance’s shoulder, then sits down on the ground next to him. “I just can’t believe you really did it. And look! Here we are. We really made it. I could kiss you, Kid, I really could.”

This isn’t the first time Butch has said something like that. Actually, Sundance can’t remember the first time Butch said it. It’s always been a joke, a little passing comment, and he’d sigh and roll his eyes and Butch would give him that same old grin, those same bright eyes, and they’d stumble on along through whatever they happened to be in the middle of.

Rolling onto his back, Sundance looks up at the sky. It’s darker than Butch’s eyes, actually. Not nearly as bright. Butch has the kind of eyes people make cracks about swimming in, too, but - then that’s funny, isn’t it? Because Sundance can’t swim.

For the first time since the joke started, Sundance says something back. “Maybe not right now. Be a little like kissing a cactus.”

He turns his head, just to catch Butch’s reaction, and Butch is just sitting there, grinning, with a strange kind of twinkle in his eye. “Not like you’d be any better.”

“No. But at least we did both get a bath.”

That makes him laugh again - and this time, Sundance watches him do it. Butch is really the funny one out of the two of them. The one with all the jokes and the fast lines, the one that can talk his way out of anything, and he’s the constant crack in Sundance’s foundation. With Butch around, his poker face is shot to shit. 

Still - there’s nothing he loves more than making Butch laugh. It’s probably just the one chance he has to get back at him.

Butch stands up, then, dusting himself off, and he reaches down to help Sundance up.

Something funny happens, then. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s just spent god knows how many days running from death. Maybe it starts as taking the joke one step further. In the moment, he doesn’t think it through - he just takes Butch’s hand, and then kisses the back of it, just briefly. “How bad is it?” he asks, looking up, sitting up now but still not making any real effort to stand.

“You know,” Butch says, giving Sundance a strange look. “Not as bad as I thought.”

When he tugs on Butch’s hand, Butch still gives him the leverage to stand up, and Sundance takes a moment to dust himself off, too.

They have no horses - and still no real goddamn clue where they are.

“Well. Now what?” Sundance asks.

Butch squints at him for a moment, then widens his eyes and nods. “Right - well. We lived, I suppose. Unless we didn’t.”

“I’d hope that heaven isn’t a riverbed at the bottom of a canyon.”

“Weren’t you just saying it’s too late to be heroes? Who says we’d ever end up in Heaven?”

“Nobody, I guess. Maybe it’s Hell, then.”

“I guess we’d better just keep walking and see,” Butch says, and he leads them on, following the side of the river. “If there is a way out of here, it’ll be this way. We follow the river. Then I guess we’d better figure out where we are.”

“Good plan.”

“It’s what we’ve got.”

So they walk. Eventually the canyon opens up, and they’re back in the desert. Still, neither of them have a good sense of exactly where they’ve ended up. Before long, the night falls, and it gets cold. Butch left his jacket when he jumped, and he lost his hat, and so did Sundance.

When they find trees, they gather some wood and manage to get a fire started, so they can huddle around it for the night. They’re both still hungry and tired.

“You think they’re still after us?” Sundance asks.

“No. They think we’re dead. They must, after that jump.”

Sundance bites his lip. He rubs his hands together and scoots closer to the fire. “You think we should stay dead?”

Butch frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Just - if everyone thinks we’re dead, that posse’s not gonna keep looking for us. If we went somewhere like you’re always talking about - changed our names, set up somewhere and went straight, we wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“The most you say to me in a week, and it’s that?” Butch asks.

It feels like he’s gotten the air knocked out of him - and he remembers how that feels. Like the shock of hitting the cold water after falling through the air. He shrugs, puts his hands close enough to the fire that he can feel them overheat - feel the sting. “Just an idea.”

“Well let me come up with the ideas.”

“That’s what you’re good at,” Sundance mumbles - but it doesn’t have the usual charm, or the humor. He’s too tired.

He gives up then, on staying awake, on conversation, and lays down on the ground, beside the fire. He curls up on his side, facing the heat.

“Guess if we’re dead I can finally get some rest,” he says, closing his eyes.

Butch just hums. It makes the sinking pit in his stomach worse, but Sundance takes it as an answer, as an affirmation that he’s allowed to try and sleep, so he keeps his eyes closed tight, doesn’t look at Butch again, and curls up tighter, curving his body around the fire.

The ground is hard, and his back is cold. At times like this, out here, he finds he rarely thinks of Etta - but in that moment, he thinks about her cabin, the warmth of her bed, the feeling of a hand moving through his hair, and he misses it. He’s done his fair share of sleeping in the rough - but for some reason, tonight, it feels rougher than ever.

He doesn’t sleep well - but he does sleep. When the sun rises, he walks back to the river and washes his face, washes off in the still cold water and shivers in the air. He takes off his shirt and jacket, too, but he’s still too jumpy to take off his pants or his gun belt. Not when he’s still worried the posse might come up over the horizon and stumble on them.

Butch wakes up while he’s still by the river. Both of them, still hungry and tired, make an unspoken agreement to keep stumbling along.

At some point, Butch stops, looks back and forth, and shakes his finger off towards the west. “Etta’s place oughta be back that way. We could rest there, and stop to eat, and figure out what we’re gonna do next.”

“You wanna go back to Etta’s?”

Butch turns and throws up his arms. “Well we don’t have any money and I don’t have any ideas! We can either kill an animal out here with the ammo we’ve got left, we can go somewhere we know we can get some sleep and some food, or we can starve to death in the desert, Kid.”

It’s the most ruffled he thinks he’s ever seen Butch. So he just nods, and starts walking. “Alright, then. Etta’s it is.”

Somehow, his agreement seems to even things out. Butch sighs, and seems to relax, and the two of them fall back into step as they keep walking.

With Butch relaxed and the posse not right at their backs, it does mean he’s talking again. At first he starts rambling about how it couldn’t have been LeFors and Lord Baltimore, how neither of them would ever be this far out let alone work together.

Then, after he wears himself out a little bit, he stays quiet for just a minute or two, watching Sundance all the while.

After everything else, it makes Sundance a little twitchy. He stops and turns to face Butch. “What?”

“What do you mean what?”

“Why are you looking at me like that? If you’ve got something to say, then say it. Unless you’re gonna crack jokes about me not being able to swim, in that case keep it to yourself.”

“No, it’s not that.” It’s not the end of Butch’s thought, but he does pause, so for a moment the only sounds are their own rustling along through the dirt. “I was just wondering... when you suggested back there we just stay dead, were you not planning on going back to Etta’s?”

There’s something hesitant in Butch’s voice, and it makes Sundance tense up even further. “Well why should I, when she thinks we’re dead already?”

“You don’t have to get defensive-”

“I’m not getting defensive, god dammit, I’m just saying, it puts her and us in danger when we could just as easily-”

“What, get free food and clothes and ammo somewhere else?”

“Would you shut up?”

“Of course, Kid, if that’s what you want.”

The silence only lasts for a moment or two before Sundance sighs and relents, his shoulders slumping slightly in the face of the long desert horizon still stretching out ahead of them. “This is why I just let you make the plans. Obviously.”

A hand catches Sundance’s forearm and pulls him up short. “Hey, come on, I didn’t-”

The sudden apologetic shift makes him uncomfortable again. “Butch-”

“Kid, come on. Listen, I didn’t mean it like that, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you, I asked because I was just surprised. You don’t wanna take her with us?”

“Well we never have before. Why should we start now? I know having a woman with us makes for good cover but that hardly seems like a reason to drag her wherever we end up going.”

“I was under the impression that you two were all but married.”

“Well sure. But she’s smart, she knows what she’s in for. She knew when we started it wasn’t a long term arrangement in the traditional sense. That’s why we’re not married. That and they could use that to track us down - but that’s exactly my point about taking her with us.”

“So you’re suggesting just you and me and the open road.”

“Or - you know, Bolivia. You said Bolivia, right?”

“That’s what I said, yeah.”

“So that’s what I said. Anyways, can you imagine if she’d been along for all this? What if the posse did track us down? We’d just have to leave her behind again.”

“I guess you make a fair point.” It’s only then that Sundance realizes Butch kept a hand on his arm that whole time - and it’s only because Butch drops it, then. “We’ll still have to go back and rest up before we leave, and we don’t have money for a hotel, so she’s our only option. Plus this way you can give her a proper goodbye.”

“Still means she’ll know we’re alive,” he mutters, but even as he’s mumbling it he knows Butch is right, and he’ll have to drop it. Etta’s their only option for a bolthole at the moment when the posse could track them down again and then they’d get back into another corner.

They need rest and food and a wash, and Sundance will have to tell Etta goodbye in person.

When they finally stumble up to her place, all filthy and bone tired, she seems glad to see both of them. She pulls them both into a hug before Butch wanders in to have a look at the paper.

Sundance does love Etta, the way he’d assume anyone loves a woman. She’s kind and she’s good and there’s something soothing about being able to hold her and feel her close. She’s never rough with him - and aside from a little playacting now and again that she says she gets a kick out of, he’s never rough with her either. Her place, and with her, is the one space in Sundance’s life for that kind of softness. He’ll miss that - but it’s not anywhere near as important to him as sticking with Butch.

Still, the moment he pulls her back and holds her close, tells her to make a big thing out of thinking he was dead - it’s nice. Maybe it’s a better goodbye than a lot of other things.

He and Butch get their food - but it comes with the knowledge that the posse won’t rest til they’re dead, and once they realize Butch and Sundance’s bodies aren’t washing out of that river, they’ll probably be back on the hunt.

Etta steps outside, and the two of them talk it over.

“We should make sure we lose them before we go down to South America,” Butch starts. “If we go right down and they’re still following us, we can’t hole up there. We’ll have to do some running first - but if we use the money we’ve got stashed away here, get some new clothes and travel carefully, we might even be able to have some fun with it first.”

“You want to waste all our money on fun?”

“Since when is fun a waste of money? Anyways, we’ll save some for down there - we shouldn’t pull a job right away, we’ll need something to get set up with, to live off of.”

“So not too much fun.”

“No, not too much. We could, though - have her along for the first part?”

Sundance cuts a glance out the window, watching Etta where she sits on the front steps. Butch’s voice makes it clear that it’s a gentle suggestion, just him offering for Sundance’s sake, but Sundance wants a clean break, for her and for him. He couldn’t say why it bothers him so much that Butch keeps pushing it - but it is starting to bother him. “Look, if you want her along, be my guest, but I say we stick to the plan.”

“The plan of just us?”

“That was my plan.”

“Well, for once then, Kid, you get to make the plan. It’s your choice.”

Butch stays seated at the dining room table - but when Sundance wanders out onto the porch, he moves over to the window, leaning out of it. For some people, this would be a private conversation - but it’s got as much to do with Butch as it does either of them, and he’d hear it just as easily from inside anyways. Sundance doesn’t need the courtesy of him pretending not to listen - not from Butch.

“Etta,” he starts, avoiding the squeakiest part of her front stoop. “Listen-”

“You’re leaving again and you won’t take me with you.”

Sundance stops, and sighs. “Well that’s one way of getting to the point.”

She stands up and turns around, crossing her arms. “It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming, someday. I knew as soon as I got involved in all this. In some way I appreciate the goodbye, but - in another way, this all seems a little condescending. I won’t cry or make a fuss in front of you. It wouldn’t do either of us any good.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“If you want to leave early in the morning, you can. But in that case - don’t sleep in my bed. You two can both sleep somewhere else.” She walks over, kisses Sundance once on the cheek, and then goes inside.

Sundance watches through the screen door as she goes over and kisses Butch on the cheek, too. He gives her a hug, just for a moment, and she whispers something in his ear.

He nods at her, and then she’s gone, retreating back towards her room to try and get some rest. Butch turns and looks at Sundance, his eyebrows raised, and Sundance just shakes his head.

What else is there to say that she didn’t already?

In the end, he does go and sleep in her bed, a selfish choice to take advantage of his one last chance to do it. The three of them eat breakfast together like they have a hundred times before, and then Etta watches while he and Butch pack up and get everything together that they need. She lets them take a couple of horses - it’s possible he and Butch left them there some other time, or it’s possible it’s just one more thing Etta’s willing to give up for them.

When they leave to head into town, Sundance knows it’s likely to be the last time he ever sees her. Still, after their conversation, he ducks his head to kiss her, but he doesn’t try to make it anything it’s not. He just tells her goodbye, just like every other time he leaves, and she nods at him as he goes. It seems that she appreciates the dignity of it.

Butch is careful going to the store. Sundance waits outside, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. If they want nicer clothes, they’ll buy them somewhere else - somewhere people don’t know them quite so well.

They make it all the way out of Wyoming before they stop for the first time. They’re somewhere in Utah, mountains around them on every side, but they’re still not heading into town. They only have so much money - Sundance will have to play cards to get them some more, and they’ll need nicer clothes for that, so they’re waiting for a bigger city to settle in for a little bit. Sundance has a feeling they’re probably heading for Reno.

The stars are bright out in the middle of nowhere, just like they always are. It’s nicer now that they’re not on the run from LeFors, now that things feel a little more settled, but he and Butch are still planning to sleep in shifts, and Sundance is keeping his gun belt on.

Now, though, they’re back to the usual system, and Butch is tucked up against Sundance’s side in the chill of the night.

“You know I never liked any of the stories about the stars. How they got there or what shapes they’re supposed to be. Whenever people tell them - I just feel like we could be a little more creative. Rewrite the stories if something more interesting happens. We all know the old ones aren’t true, but nobody ever gets to make any new ones, either.”

Butch always talks himself to sleep. Tired mumbles that fade out slowly into even breaths.

Sundance always listens.

“If anyone could ever make up a new one, it’d be you,” Sundance tells him.

“I guess the one that looks like a cup is alright, but there’s not a single outlaw or animal or cactus or tumbleweed - not a single damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

Looking up, Sundance tilts his head. “That one over there could be a hand of cards. If you look at it right.”

“You’re always thinking of cards. But where’s the people? Sure, maybe one man, but never two - why not? You never hear those stories. It’s always just one guy. What’d a man ever get done on his own that two couldn’t do better?”

That makes Sundance smile - but he’s glad, too, that Butch isn’t looking. “I’m not sure everyone agrees with that.”

“Well you’d better.”

“I’d be an idiot not to.”

“Damn right.”

Sundance thinks maybe he’s done there, but after just a moment, he starts going again, talking about mythical creatures and stories he claims he never liked. He’ll wear himself out soon enough.

In the meantime, Sundance looks up, and watches the stars, looking for some to pick out. Looking for a constellation that could look anything like Butch, even if he has to tilt his head and squint. He keeps up his looking while Butch trails off, and he’s still searching when Butch wakes up again, taps him on the shoulder, and tells him to go to sleep.

It’s several more days’ ride to Reno. Each night they rest, and rest the horses, too. They eat out of the food they brought with them, heated up over a fire. Butch starts to tell stories about the bank robberies he’s decided to find in the sky.

One night, somewhere on the edge of Nevada, they actually find a cave to bed down in.

Sometime a long time ago, Sundance made it clear the only way he ever felt comfortable with both of them sleeping was if nobody could get the jump on them while they did. Because of that, when they find the cave, it’s unspoken agreement that they check it for other entrances, string something up across the front, and finally decide they can both get a full night’s rest.

There’s no way to see the stars with a roof over their head, so instead Butch starts talking about Reno.

“Now we can’t stay for too long. I know you’ll get us some more money, enough to head South, but we both have to agree up front that we won’t stay too long. We know where we’re going, and we’ll need money when we get there.”

“Say that enough, maybe you’ll convince yourself,” Sundance mutters.

“Well. You’re right enough. Suppose it’s me I have to convince and not you - although I’ll never understand why you changed your mind about Bolivia like that. Always used to look at me like I was talking crazy and then suddenly one jump off a medium sized cliff and you go wherever I say.”

“You’re the one that said Bolivia. I just know we can’t stay here.”

“We could stay in this cave, at least for a little while, but I agree it doesn’t have the diversions of a city. We could get ourselves some nice suits for once. Have a real night on the town. It’s almost a shame we won’t have a lady with us, or we could go dancing. Wine and dine her and all that - but we can have enough fun just between the two of us, I’d think.”

Something in Sundance’s brain turns traitor on him, then. He’s never been much of a dancer - but he can imagine dancing with Etta. Knows how she feels that close, knows how it feels to have an arm around her waist. Only then his mind takes another left turn - and he can imagine, from nights spent sleeping close or days spent sharing a saddle, how it might feel to have Butch in his arms instead. How it might feel to press his cheek against Butch’s, and move to whatever song happened to be playing - but they couldn’t. 

And besides, Butch wouldn’t. 

And besides - for any number of reasons, neither would Sundance.

After a pause that’s just a little too long, Sundance snorts out a scoff. “You have enough fun just by yourself. I don’t think you need my help.”

“Oh come on, I always need your help. I need your money at least.”

In the light of the dying fire, Butch turns and grins at Sundance, all easy and half-laughing. Still, there’s something strange around his eyes.

Sundance isn’t sure what to make of it. “I’m flattered, Butch,” he says back, because that’s how they do things.

Then, with the conversation over, instead of picking it back up as they both fall asleep, Butch turns onto his side, presses close, and presses his closed mouth against the fabric of Sundance’s shirt, right at his shoulder.

Sundance can feel the warmth of his breath - and maybe he’s fooling himself, but he feels a little of the damp, too, the sort of hot, damp press of a mouth that gives it just a little bit less of an innocent edge.

“Goodnight, Kid,” Butch mumbles there, his lips still pressed to the fabric, and then he turns over again, with his back to Sundance.

It’s only when he exhales that Sundance realizes he stopped breathing for a moment. “Goodnight, Butch,” he says quietly.

Butch doesn’t offer an explanation - and Sundance doesn’t ask for one.

When they wake the next day, they go about their usual business. Whatever happened the night before doesn’t make anything worse or better - and Sundance isn’t quite sure what it means for Butch specifically. Maybe nothing.

It’s another full day and a half before they ride into Reno.

Butch is quiet for a long time - but it’s an easier quiet than when they had LeFors and Baltimore right at their backs.

Sundance isn’t used to riding in the quiet, though, not lately, so ultimately he’s the one to break it. “Bolivia’s a better idea than the one you had about enlisting. Not to say I wouldn’t have done it to get out of all this if it had worked - but I don’t feel like I’m missing out on the war, and I have a feeling I’d rather be doing whatever we’ll end up doing in Bolivia - even though I have a feeling even you don’t know what that’s going to be yet.”

Butch doesn’t miss a beat. “Well I think between the two of us we ought to be able to set up a nice little ranch. We’ve got the rustling experience to handle an animal, and I think if we put our heads together we can figure out how to run a little farm. Make our own food, take care of the cows. Back in the day we struggled, but with all this time on our hands and a little more experience under our belts, it can’t be that hard.”

“So that’s the plan? Start a ranch?”

“That’s the plan. Unless you’ve got any objections.”

For a moment, Sundance pictures it. The two of them out on some place, with their own house just for the two of them. Waking up with the sun, grumbling while they do the early morning chores. It seems alright. Nothing like robbing, nothing like the adrenaline they’ve spent half their lives chasing - but its own kind of good. He smiles. “You just keep thinking, Butch,” he mutters, just to say it.

“I hear it’s what I’m good at.”

The next day, in the late afternoon with the sun still over their heads, they ride into Reno.

It may not be the nicest place he and Butch have ever ridden into - but it’ll do. It’s no big city, but it’s probably the biggest one in Nevada - and even with that aside, it’s just enough people to hide in without leaving too many people to recognize them. A nice little in-between place.

They already have enough money for two suits, two shaves, and a single hotel room - and with enough leftover after that for Sundance to double or triple their money at a poker table.

Their first night, though, they mostly intend to get cleaned up and get some rest.

They go to the hotel first - there’s one that looks nice enough, right next to a casino and a saloon, called the Elk Hotel. It’s nice enough on the inside - and more than nice enough to suit their purpose, which is mostly to stop sleeping in the rough for a little bit.

When they check in, Butch signs the guest book as Robert Longabaugh. Sundance squints at it, convinced he didn’t read it right, and then instead the man behind the desk says it out loud before he has someone show them their room.

As soon as they’re inside, with the door closed, Sundance takes him to task for it. “What’s that about?”

“What’s what about?” Butch asks.

“Using my real name when you signed in!”

“Well it isn’t all your name, it’s my name and your name. And nobody knows our real names, anyways.”

“Well it’s still my name!” Sundance argues.

“Just let me borrow it, then. You can have mine for a little bit if you want. Harry Parker has a nice enough ring to it, doesn’t it?” Butch grins, and ducks out of the room, likely in search of the bath.

Sundance should just follow him, but they can’t argue about that out in the hall. When he does leave the room, Butch is gone for the time being, and he has to go downstairs himself and ask about getting a bath.

The place is nice enough to have several separate bathrooms, so presumably while Butch is in another one, Sundance can get his own bath. Along with the tub, they give him a razor and a shaving kit so he can shave his face and trim up his mustache. 

He knows getting rid of the mustache would be one hell of a disguise - but he can’t make himself do it. Everyone always used to say he looked ten years younger without it - and he always hated that.

When he gets back to the room, Butch is already there, freshly shaved, flushed and smiling with his shirt still half-unbuttoned. “I knew you’d keep that mustache. The devil himself couldn’t talk you into shaving that thing off, could he?”

“You say that like you have a problem with it.”

“Me? No. You’ve had that thing the whole time I’ve known you, shave it off you’d look like a stranger.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that.” Sundance takes his things and sets them down on his own bed, then sits down just to watch Butch. “Might have helped the disguise, though.”

“If that posse gets after us again, with Baltimore tracking, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference and you know it. We’ll be lucky to get out of here fast enough. You may as well just keep it - we both like you better that way.”

“If you insist.” Sundance kicks off his boots, because he can, now that they’re back in the room. He falls back against the mattress and appreciates the softness of it, the feeling of genuine comfort that he hasn’t had since they left Etta’s. Out on the street, he can hear music and voices, and the horses out on the rough road.

“You have any interest in going out tonight? Or should we get our rest in while we can?” Butch sits down on the bed right next to him, in spite of the fact that there are two. His hip bumps up against Sundance’s.

“Mm. Not up to cards tonight, but we could go out and have a drink if you want.”

“As much as I’d love to fall asleep drunk, we haven’t really got the money to waste yet. Tomorrow after you’ve made us some more, then we can have our night on the town. Drinks and women as far as the eye can see. Til then, I am perfectly happy just to sleep in a bed.” Butch falls back then, too, and nudges Sundance with his shoulder. “Budge over.”

“There’s a perfectly good bed over there,” Sundance reminds him.

“And the one by the door is always more dangerous. You can move if you want, but I’ll be staying right here.”

“Suit yourself,” Sundance mumbles, warm with Butch pressed against his side and already half-asleep.

“I always do,” Butch says quietly - and that’s the last thing Sundance hears.

When they wake up in the morning, it’s because neither of them thought to close the curtains the night before. Sundance hears Butch grumbling as he gets up, stumbles over and pulls the curtains shut - but the sun is bright, and it only does so much.

“Our first full day in the fine city of Reno, Nevada, Mr. Parker. Whatever shall we do?”

“Well you could let me go back to sleep for another hour or so.”

“No time like the present.”

“At least get me some coffee, then, first, before you drag me down to the casino.”

“Now that I can do.”

It’s a surprise when Butch actually leaves for just a couple of minutes and comes back with coffee, but it is a pleasant one. Sundance rubs the sleep from his eyes and stumbles over to the table in the corner to sit and drink his coffee. Butch sits across from him, counting their money, probably figuring out exactly how much they’ll need, how much Sundance can use to bet, and how much he can spend later if they do well.

“Seems like if you can triple what we’ve got, we should be all set to take it easy when we get to Bolivia. If you can make us any more than that, we can make a real night of it here before we have to head out, and maybe even travel in style on the way down. But just do what you can.”

Sundance snorts and takes the money that Butch nudges towards him. “Don’t insult me.”

“We both know you work better when you’re angry.”

“You just like to say that because it gives you an excuse.” With the question of money squared away, Sundance washes his face and gets changed into something nicer - not too nice, nothing to make him conspicuous in a casino, but he also doesn’t want to look like a drifter. He can pass for a professional gambler, which is the idea.

Butch sits at the table and drinks what’s left of the coffee. “You wanna go ahead and get started?”

“May as well. You coming along?”

“I’ll meet you down there. Just yell if you need anything, I doubt I’ll be so far away I couldn’t hear you.”

Sundance scoffs, but he puts on his hat and heads downstairs and out towards the casino.

It’s not a big place. There’s some standard gambling, and not many crowded tables when it’s still so early in the day - but there’s a poker game going, as there always seems to be in places like this, so Sundance takes a seat and someone deals him in.

Everyone always jokes about the fact that he’s got a face for poker - but it’s helpful. He’s got pretty good luck and he knows how to play smart and when nobody’s cheating, that’s an easy enough way to make money.

He triples their money and then some while it’s still light outside. He keeps playing until even the changing crowd at the table starts to get annoyed - and that’s when he knows to take his leave.

Butch is there beside him as he leaves the casino - and he’s grinning as they walk out the door. He was probably there watching for a while, but Sundance finds himself lost in it whenever he’s in the middle of a game. It’s hard to focus on anything else.

As soon as they make it back up to the room, Sundance empties his pockets onto the table, handfuls of money all laid out, and he looks back at Butch and grins. “This enough to suit you?”

“I always knew you could do it,” Butch tells him, and he pats Sundance firmly on the shoulder as he walks by, lingering for just a moment as they brush past each other.

Butch counts out the money properly, sets some aside by hiding it in their things and sliding that under the bed. Then he passes Sundance a handful of coins and raises his eyebrows. “Well. Shall we?"

They have to go out first and get themselves some nicer clothes - but after that, they find the nicest restaurant in town and settle in for dinner. There’s steak and wine, fresh bread - it’s comical, really, how nice it is compared to the tinned food they’re always eating on the road that they just have to heat up in the fire.

Butch loves it, though. Makes jokes with the woman who runs the place, charms everyone in the building practically as soon as they’re inside. Butch may love going to places like that, but Sundance finds his fun just in watching Butch.

With both of them tipsy and well-fed, they head over to the saloon.

Normally, it feels like the part of the night where Butch would seek out a woman for company, go take advantage of the room for a little while, or use one of the saloon’s back rooms before he stumbles back to the hotel in the middle of the night.

Instead, though, he tells wild stories to anyone at the bar who’ll listen. Tells everyone he and Sundance are about to enlist in the war, that Sundance is the best man he’s ever seen with a gun, and together they could practically take the Spanish head on.

“Harry here, he could out-shoot any one of you, I’d guarantee it,” Butch says just a little too loudly.

Sundance is a little flattered - he knows he’s good, but it doesn’t take the pleasure out of hearing Butch say it - but mostly he wants them to get back to the hotel before someone tries to have him prove anything.

“Come on now, Longabaugh, I’m not that good. Let’s not make any bets we can’t win.”

Butch looks up at him, slouched on a stool, and laughs. “Tonight, maybe you’ve got a point.”

“Thanks for noticing.” Sundance slings an arm around Butch’s waist and helps haul him up - and together, they stumble towards the door. “Let’s just get back before you get the whole bar in on how good a shot I am.”

“I bet even tonight and even drunk you’d best anybody in there.”

“You might be right, but that doesn’t mean I’m anxious to try it.”

Humming, Butch drops his arm around Sundance’s shoulders and tries to hold more of his own weight. “Well we are trying to keep a low profile.”

“Something I already knew you couldn’t manage.”

“Now hey!” Butch says, but as he tries to straighten up and look offended, he stumbles a little and nearly takes Sundance down with him. 

Instead, as the reach the front steps of the hotel, Butch is practically dead weight in Sundance’s arms, and laughing all the while. Sundance is forced to smile politely at the man at the front desk as he nods and hauls Butch up the stairs.

He sets Butch down on the bed, then checks where they hid the rest of the money, under the bed, out of habit.

Where he’s knelt down on the floor, he feels a hand land on top of his head, and he nearly jumps even as he realizes it’s just Butch. “Give a man a warning, would you?” he grumbles.

He lifts up his head, though, and Butch’s hand just stays there, fingers playing in his hair. It’s the sort of thing Etta used to do - the sort of thing just about nobody else has ever done. Sundance doesn’t complain, though, and doesn’t try to shake off the touch. He just sits there, for a moment, and lets it happen.

Just like the night before, the street outside is still loud, and they can hear the music from the saloon and everyone singing and shouting and shuffling through their window, even all the way up in their room.

“Anybody ever teach you how to dance, Kid?” Butch asks.

Sundance had been half-convinced that Butch might just pass out. Instead, when he looks up, Butch is looking at him, eyes pale in the dark room. Butch’s hand falls from his hair down to his shoulder, and nudges there trying to pry out an answer. “Well. Not really.”

“The music’s nice. And you did good today, and I didn’t waste even a cent of our money beyond what we planned, so I think we should celebrate.”

“Haven’t you celebrated enough?”

“Not nearly.”

With that, Butch heaves himself up off the bed and stumbles over to the window. He pulls the curtains, but leaves the outside open to the air, so they can hear everything clearly.

Sundance watches him, then stands up off the floor, something he really meant to do a full minute ago, before Butch distracted him. He dusts himself off, and then goes to sit down on the bed - but instead, Butch grabs both his hands and tugs him away.

“No you don’t. Not so fast. You’re gonna dance with me first.”

“ You know, I knew you were drunk, but I didn’t realize you were out of your mind.”

Butch laughs, and he slides his hands further up Sundance’s forearms, up to his shoulders. “You think that all the time, anyways. There’s no pleasing you.”

“I happen to think I’m very easy to please.”

“Of course you do. But Etta knew better than that and so do I. Just come here, you stubborn mule.”

Mostly to steady himself, Sundance reaches out and puts his hands on Butch’s waist. His thumbs fit neatly against Butch’s ribs, and his hands span over the lower half of his back. Butch is warm - probably from drink, but he’s warm just like when they huddle up together in the desert, too. “Shouldn’t you go find a woman for this?” he mumbles.

“I told you I’m not wasting money. Etta told me what you said about where all my money goes, and I’m proving you wrong. So let me.”

“You hardly need money to find a woman.”

“Not all of us are you, Harry,” Butch says softly.

It’s strange, having Butch use his real name when it isn’t just for show. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up - makes a funny kind of shiver wriggle down his spine. He’s probably just too drunk for any of it. “Well are we dancing or not, then?” Sundance asks.

“Well, sure we are.”

Butch moves one hand, then, to grab one of Sundance’s hands with his own, and then he stumbles forward and tries to steer them into motion, circling slowly around the table, far behind the tempo of the music.

Sundance keeps the hand Butch isn’t holding just pressed to Butch’s waist - and it’s nice, it is, but with the piano music floating in from the window far faster than either of them are able to keep up with, it’s so comical that Sundance can’t keep himself from laughing. He breaks into chuckles, his head falling forward against Butch’s shoulder even as Butch tries to keep them moving.

Even though he’s not looking, Sundance tries not to trip over Butch’s feet, but he fails, and they both come to a stop as Butch just bumps into him and ends up sliding his hand back up Sundance’s arm to his shoulders, leaning forward too and laughing against Sundance’s neck.

“Well alright, maybe you don’t know how to dance.”

“Maybe you don’t know how to lead.”

“I don’t think anybody could lead you.”

Sundance scoffs, and lifts his head, though his cheek brushes against Butch’s on the way. When he turns his head, just a little, his nose is pressed just above Butch’s ear - and they’re just standing there, half-embracing, while the piano player changes songs to something a little bit slower. “Maybe I oughta give you a pass, considering how drunk you are.”

“I appreciate that.”

For some reason, neither of them even tries to move. Butch is still laughing a little, there against Sundance’s neck, and Sundance doesn’t want to pull back and drop him. Besides - when he presses his hands against Butch’s back again, so he’s practically holding him, Butch doesn’t complain, and it’s - nice.

Sundance sighs, and tips his head forward again, resting it against Butch’s collar. “We should probably get some rest. Especially if we’re gonna head out tomorrow so you don’t spend any more money.”

“God, I wish we could stay here one more day just to sleep in a bed again.”

“Guess it depends on how you feel in the morning.”

Groaning, Butch finally stands up straight and stretches out his back. He lets his hands fall slowly away from Sundance’s arms, then goes over and closes the window. It doesn’t completely get rid of the sounds from the street, but it helps.

Sundance does what he should have done the night before, and strips out of nearly all of his clothes to sleep in his union suit. Butch at least struggles out of his jeans, too, before he falls onto the bed.

From over at the wash basin, Sundance looks at the bed they’ve yet to use. Then Butch, silently, shuffles closer to one side of the bed, leaving room for Sundance - and Sundance goes over and climbs in beside him.

They fall asleep like that for the second night in a row.

When he wakes up in the morning, Sundance knows it’s late. The sun’s too bright, and his head aches, and his mouth tastes like he just climbed out of that river and kissed the dirt again.

He sits up, rubs at his face, and then stumbles over to the wash basin just to rinse out his mouth and splash some water on his face.

“Well good, you’ve returned to the land of the living.”

One of the worst things about Butch has always been that he’s never gotten a hangover in all his life. At least, he claims it’s true, and Sundance has seen enough proof to believe it. He wakes up early no matter how much he’s had to drink, and even if he complains, he never seems to be suffering nearly as much as Sundance.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being so damn grumpy?” Sundance mumbles.

“Well someone has to balance out your early morning cheer. Now I’ve got coffee already, just sit down and listen and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking about.”

Again, to Sundance’s surprise, there’s coffee on the table - so gladly, he sits down, and he listens.

“We did spend a little money on dinner and drinks, but if I’ve done the arithmetic right, we should have enough to take a train to San Francisco, and from there, a ship down to South America. From there, we’ll land on the coast, and we can probably find our way to Bolivia, either by train or stagecoach or just by getting some horses. And you get a lot for your money in Bolivia, from what I’ve heard, so we might even still be able to buy some land once we’re down there.”

Sundance sips slowly at his coffee, and blinks at Butch. If anybody could make money stretch like that, it’s probably Butch. “And you don’t think anybody’s after us yet?”

“Well have you seen LeFors anywhere? Or even heard anything? Because I haven’t. I did a little poking around yesterday, listening in while you were playing poker. I’m pretty sure everyone still thinks we’re dead.”

Another long sip of coffee - enough to nearly finish off the cup. “Well I guess I haven’t got anything better to do.”

Butch grins at that - and it’s the same grin he gets every time he plans a job or things come together just the way he wanted. It means as far as Butch is concerned, the plan’s in motion.

So they’re off for San Francisco that very same day.

Neither of them are fully used to taking a train as a paying passenger - and it’s a strange experience to have the ticket takers and the attendants treat them so kindly. They’re dressed well, which probably helps, but it all just goes to further prove that when they’re not stealing anything, no one seems to have any real idea who they are.

Butch is clearly basking in it, the ability to pretend that they’ve got real money for once. For all his blustering about being a hero, Sundance knows that Butch spends so easy because all he’s ever really wanted is money and the ability to do that sort of thing freely. It’s what makes him so angry with the men that do have money - he and Butch have never had that kind of luck. Even money earned, more often than not, seems to come and go. Men who start with it seem to have an unlimited supply.

Sundance could take or leave the money - he’s never really angry when a job doesn’t pay out. He does it for the fun, and because it’s just about the only thing he’s good at. That, and because it’s what Butch does.

At one point, settled into a car, Butch leans over and whispers, “Not to go asking for bad luck - but I can’t think of a single thing funnier than if somebody else tried to rob this train while we were on it.”

It makes Sundance laugh - but for better or worse, it doesn’t happen. They arrive in San Francisco without any trouble at all.

The ship, fortunately, times out well for their sake - they only have to wait a couple of days in San Francisco before it’ll come in and they can take it south.

Unlike Reno, San Francisco is a real city. It’s not so different from some of the places he and Butch have been on Butch’s more extravagant vacations, but it’s always impressive to see a place all built up like that - that it’s been there long enough, and that it’s built to last.

“I suppose I’ll have to go and win us some more money if we’re planning to do anything while we’re here,” Sundance says once they get settled into a hotel room.

This one isn’t as nice in the one in Reno, because they can’t afford the nicer hotel anymore. It’s a bed, though, and a roof over their heads. It’ll do.

“Well, if nothing else we could get a nicer room and another good dinner, if you’re in the mood.”

One the one hand, when Sundance goes down to the casino and finds the best-looking table for poker, he expects Butch to wander off because that’s what he always used to do. Go find a woman, go and case a bank. After Reno, though, he isn’t sure what to expect anymore.

When Butch follows him to the casino and sets himself up at the bar, Sundance wouldn’t really say that he’s surprised. He’s just - uncertain. Apparently with limited funds and the law right behind them, Butch is perfectly happy to nurse a single glass of whiskey for a few hours while Sundance wins them some money.

Any time in between rounds that Sundance happens to look over, Butch just catches his eye and nods at him. He’s probably over there still asking around to see what anyone knows - but obviously he’s watching Sundance play, too.

With their winnings, they do go out for another nice dinner.

Afterwards, they both just make their way back to the hotel room, but as Sundance takes off his boots and settles in, he can’t help but keep an eye on Butch.

“You know we have enough money. If you wanted to - head out for the night.”

Butch dips his hands in the wash basin and then flicks the water off of them. “Well, we probably do. But we could use that money in South America, too.”

“Well sure, but there’s also more money in South America. Or so you say.”

Shrugging, Butch leans up against the wall, right next to the window. “Why waste what we’ve got?”

“Weren’t you the one that said fun isn’t a waste?”

Butch laughs at that and scuffs the toe of his boot against the hardwood floor. “I suppose I did. And if you’d rather have the alone time I can make myself scarce. Or you could take the money and go out instead.”

Sundance frowns. “Oh hell, you know I don’t go in for stuff like that. Not without you there. That was always the nice part of having Etta around, I just didn’t have to worry about - any of that.”

Sitting down on the bed, next to Sundance, Butch starts to take off his boots. “If it’s all the same to you, then, Harry, I’ll just stay put.”

There seems to be no point pushing it when Butch doesn’t even seem restless. They could use the money to put towards land or animals in Bolivia, or even just to get a nicer room if the ship is late getting in. Still, it’s strange to see Butch so practical.

It would be silly to chase him off, though.

Sundance just stands up and gets himself ready for bed. “Suit yourself, then.”

And that settles it.

Soon enough, their ship comes in, and they’re on their way to South America.

It’s strange, being on the way to a place where Sundance really has no idea what to expect. All he has to go off of is what Butch has told him, and he has enough sense to know that half of what Butch says comes more out of his own dreams than any real thing he’s ever seen or been told. Still. It could be nice. Wide open and green and full of gold and possibility.

Even if it’s not though - if it’s just the same. At least maybe there he and Butch can settle in for a little bit. Find a place to stay, if only until they get bored.

If LeFors can’t find them there - if they could get a chance to catch their breath without death breathing down the back of their necks for a while, that would be nice.

All rides like theirs have to come to an end sooner or later - it wasn’t like Sundance never knew that. But he’d never seen it quite so clearly as he had on the side of that cliff, when Butch had offered to jump first.

If they are going, they’re going together. Sundance is certain of that now.

The good news about the ship is that neither he or Butch are prone to sea sickness. Besides that - you can see the stars from the deck at night.

He and Butch go out late, once nearly everyone else on board seems to be asleep, and look up at the sky out in the ocean spray. The salty air is always a surprise - Sundance hasn’t been anywhere near the ocean since he was a kid, and it’s strange to see that much water again - so much that he can’t see anything else, or smell much of anything else. Just salt, and Butch.

“Kid, I think I finally found the perfect stars,” Butch says after they’ve been standing on the deck for a while.

Since they left San Francisco, it hardly feels like they’re running from anything. Neither of them are checking over their shoulders all the time or talking in code and never using their names. Things feel settled again, since LeFors can hardly sneak up on them on a boat. 

“Which ones?” Sundance asks.

“You see those two right there? Right up there, so close they practically look like the same star.” 

Butch points, and Sundance hums, following his finger up towards the sky. 

“There’s a story there. And I’m gonna find it. Just you wait.”

“Sure you will, Butch."

Sundance is leaned against the metal right against the edge of the ship, and Butch settles in so close to him that their arms are pressed together. “Somebody’s gonna do it someday. Might as well be me. Might as well leave behind something other than money and a string of robberies. And what better to leave than a story? That’s the kind of thing that hangs around.”

“With all those news articles, I hardly see how anybody’s gonna forget about you, Butch.”

“Not just me. Us.” Butch nudges his elbow against Sundance’s, and Sundance just laughs and shakes his head.

“Well it sounds like we won’t be around to see it either way.”

“No. Probably not. Man can’t really be a hero til he’s dead, can he?”

It’s true that for all the trouble Sundance gives him, Sundance always knows that Butch is smart. It’s rare, though, he says something that really makes Sundance think like that. He blinks up at the stars - at the two that Butch had pointed out. “Maybe if you’d gotten us in the war. Sometimes people live through a war, someone calls them a hero.”

“Maybe so,” Butch mumbles thoughtfully. Then he steps back, pats Sundance on the back, and tugs at his arm. “Come on. Let’s go back in before we fall asleep out here on the deck. I don’t wanna sleep under the stars again until we have to.”

It’s a long trip on the boat to South America - but they do make it to the coast.

Though the ocean was a nice change, Sundance finds himself glad to be back on dry land again. He’s not going to lean down and kiss it, but it’s a close thing.

Butch wanders off after they make it to the dock, presumably to figure out exactly where they are, and exactly how one gets to Bolivia.

When Sundance tracks him down, he’s stumbling through a conversation with one of the men who worked on the boat. He can barely speak Spanish, and the other guy can barely speak English, so it mostly means that Butch is gesturing with his hands and trying his best to charm his way through a conversation that’s probably complete nonsense on both ends.

Sundance just leans against a post on the dock and watches, grinning at the scene in front of him.

When Butch turns around, clearly looking for him, he frowns at the look on Sundance’s face.

“Laugh all you want. It’s not like you’re any help.”

“You’re the one who said he could speak Spanish.”

“Yeah, and maybe we should have brought Etta just for that. This is all your fault anyways.”

Sundance laughs, but he nudges his shoulder against Butch's as he turns to walk away. “Come on, now, what’d he say? Didn’t you get anything out of it?”

“Yeah - we’re in Peru. Bolivia’s the next country over. We’ll have to take a train or some horses or something to get there. Still not entirely sure what direction, but I’m guessing away from the ocean is our best bet.”

Snorting, Sundance shakes his head. “Always knew you were the smart one.”

“Oh you go-”

“Come on, let’s find a way to get there. No use wasting time arguing.”

“You only call it wasting time because you know you’d lose the argument.”

“Sure, Butch.”

There’s another train that heads the right way, but knowing that they’ll need horses to set up a ranch anyways, they end up just buying a couple in town. Butch doesn’t remember the word for horse, so in the end Sundance just hears what sounds like a number and hands over some money. It isn’t a bad price - or at least it doesn’t seem like one, so it’s worth just trying to save the frustration.

With the horses, though, when they ride out of town, they’re back to what they know.

The sun starts to set over the horizon, and - well, really, this particular part of South America does look an awful lot like Wyoming.

Even when they finally do cross into Bolivia - it doesn’t look like much. Dry land and farm animals, little shacks and wooden houses on decent spits of land.

Sundance starts to say something, but Butch cuts him off.

“I don’t wanna hear it. We haven’t even found a place yet. You have yet to see any of the joys of Bolivia, and I’m sure there are many.”

“Right, I’m sure it’s a regular Atlantic City.”

“Oh, hell, what do you know about Atlantic City,” Butch grumbles.

Sundance laughs, then. “Well, for one, I was born there.”

Butch stops his horse, then, just to pause and look over at Sundance. “No foolin’?”

“Yeah. But don’t worry - this is already a hell of a lot nicer than Atlantic City, as far as I’m concerned. Lot less chance of anyone finding us here.”

That gets Butch to laugh, and they press on.

They do manage to find a little town in Bolivia - it’s got a nice bank, but for the time being the plan is still to go straight for as long as they can bear it. As such, they get a hotel room and Sundance goes to play poker at the closest saloon, and they try to figure out how to get themselves a place.

Butch is the one who finds the man to ask, of course. Some American who actually speaks English and hasn’t had any luck starting his own ranch, planning to pack it up and go home. He offers to sell to Butch for whatever they can offer - so Sundance turns over the rest of the money, and then they own land.

Land. Real, solid ground and a house that’s theirs and nobody else’s. Land they didn’t even really buy with stolen money, because Sundance mostly earned it.

It’s the first thing that big that’s ever really belonged to either of them in a long time.

The house is small. There’s just one bed, a little kitchen, a table for eating and for playing cards. It’s only a couple of rooms. There’s a fireplace, though, for when it gets cold at night. Plenty of land to raise animals. A barn, if they need it, a water trough for the horses.

All things considered, it’s nice.

They leave the hotel and move their things there the very first day they own it properly, and they both just stand outside looking at it for a while.

“You know - there’s just something about it,” Butch says, walking up and knocking on the wood supports of the front porch. “Something… sturdy. Something in the way we got it, too, that just makes it feel like this is where we were always supposed to end up.” Butch turns back around and grins at Sundance, so wide it’s almost blinding. “Admit it, Kid, Bolivia was the best idea I ever had."

“It isn’t so bad so far,” Sundance tells him with a smile.

“Nothing’s ever good enough for you.”

They’re both still chuckling, though, as they finally go inside and start to unpack their things to set the place up.

The next day, with the future stretching out ahead of them, what they’ve done really starts to settle in. They have a place - but now they’ll need a way to make money. Some animals, even if it’s just cows to start with, and they’re out of money to buy decent animals.

Sundance makes coffee with the little supplies they have, over the wood stove in the kitchen.

Then he starts to think about the kind of work it’ll really take to get the place up and running.

Once they have animals it won’t be so bad. Hours might be long - getting up early, no time to stay up late in town, but he and Butch have got each other and they’re out of the law’s way for now, so that has to count for something.

He knows they’re likely to get bored, sooner or later. For now, though, he can imagine playing cards with Butch before they settle into bed. Drinking to celebrate a long day well-done and Butch starting to sing, trying to talk Sundance into dancing with him again.

It could be a nice life, really. Simple, but never boring, not with Butch.

Butch comes in from outside with more firewood and a sour look on his face. “You know I swore I’d never go back to rustling cattle.”

“I remember. If it makes you feel any better, I can offer to do most of the work.”

“That doesn’t change what we’re doing.”

“Couple of cows and a bull, though, and we never have to worry about it again.”

Picking up a cup of coffee, Butch sighs into it. “Suppose you’re right. Guess we’d better head out today and see what we can see.”

With more luck, though - more luck than they’ve had in a long time - there’s a cattle drive heading through, and Sundance happens to spot it while they’re out riding.

He and Butch follow for a bit until the man at the back rides off for something. Then it’s a simple matter of distracting a few of the cows and getting them away before anyone happens to notice.

Sundance is the one that has to go in on foot, after he offered, and try to spook some of the cows away. Butch stays on his horse, and wrangles them once they’re away from the rest of the group.

After that, it’s a steady ride back to the ranch, as quickly as possible.

When they do make it back - the whole thing is an adrenaline rush almost like a bank job, and Butch is still laughing as they climb off their horses.

“Just that easy! We’ve never had a job that easy in our whole lives, I’d bet on it.”

“You’re probably right,” Sundance agrees, jumping down. He opens up the fence to guide the cows in, and then closes it behind them, making sure everything is safely latched. Sometime soon they should probably think about covering up the brand - but they don’t need to do it just yet.

“Forget everything I ever said about either of us being too old for this. That felt just like it always did.” Butch grins, open and easy, and grabs Sundance by the arm. “Kid, that was so easy you made it look like a dance. I could kiss you.”

It’s strange, to hear Butch say it again after everything. Sundance nearly laughs - but then Butch leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek, just something quick, and then he laughs, too as he drops his arm and pulls away.

“Come on, let’s go celebrate! We’re going to town tonight, I’ll buy you as many drinks as you want - if we can find a way to pay for them.”

With that, he’s gone, into the house. Sundance looks at the space where he stood, then over at the cows, but they don’t seem to have any answers either.

Really, there’s not much of an answer but to get drunk after that.

They do have a little money left to take into town. Sundance makes sure they leave some of it at home - they’ll need to buy food and some things for the house soon, but if Butch wants to celebrate, there’s a little for that.

Some of the people in town remember them from their recent stay - especially the ones that speak English. Sundance ends up getting invited to play poker again, and Butch brings him drinks in between chatting with the bartender.

Though he hasn’t thought about it in a while, they’re still using their real names, more or less. Butch hasn’t really called him Harry without an audience since San Francisco, but it’s still strange to have anybody refer to him that way - and that’s how everyone knows him again, now. For years it was only Etta, nobody else since he’d gotten old enough he didn’t really see family.

It never feels the same way just coming from anybody, though, as it does coming from Butch.

Sundance wins a little money at poker, but backs out before he gets too much. He uses most of it to buy more drinks for Butch and himself - enough that they stumble back to the horses, still drunk.

The ride home is quiet, because they’re both still riding the high of the day and the alcohol.

It’s only once they fall into bed that Sundance even thinks in passing about the fact that Butch didn’t try to make a move to go and find a brothel in town.

When they wake up in the morning, it’s their first real day of feeding and watering the cows and making sure the horses are still in place at the water, too. Sundance takes the chance to take stock of what they’ve got and what they’ll need in town while he drinks his coffee.

Butch actually has the nerve to whistle while he works, he’s still in such a good mood, but all Sundance can do is shake his head and grumble about it.

They run through the basic list of chores, and clean themselves up after, but then there’s still enough time in the day that they decide to go ahead and go buy the supplies they need.

Once they are in town, they split up what needs to be done, and Butch heads to the store with a list and his half-remembered Spanish. Sundance takes the rest of the money and goes out in search of someone to sell them any other kind of supplies he can find for the farm.

It’s not that he means to steal a bull while he’s at it. Really.

But while he’s looking, he happens to find one - and even if it does have a brand, someone’s left it awfully unattended.

When he meets Butch back in town, then, he’s got some of the supplies they need, all legally obtained in a sack - and the bull waiting there with him, brand hastily covered as best he could with just dirt and the heated up spur of his boot.

“Did you-”

“I think maybe I should answer that question back at home,” Sundance tells him, grinning.

They take off on their horses as quickly as they can, with the bull right there alongside them.

As soon as they’re out of earshot of the town, Butch starts to laugh. He laughs with his head thrown back, loud and long, so hard his hat nearly falls off.

Sundance can’t help but chuckle a little himself.

“I can’t believe you found that thing. Should I even ask?”

“It’s not a great story. Point is, we’ve got everything we need now.”

“I’ll pry it out of you sooner or later.” Butch shakes his head, and grins again. “Oh, Kid, I could kiss you, really I could.”

This time, though, Sundance is riding the high. He’s managed something, and he knows it, and Butch hasn’t gone looking for a woman in weeks, and especially after last time - well, what the hell. He gets his horse right next to Butch’s, in step with her, and reaches out and grabs Butch by the back of his neck. He kisses him, right on the mouth, none too gently, while they’re still riding, while he still has the reins in one hand.

Butch’s mouth is slack and unmoving, though - and after a moment, Sundance has a sinking kind of feeling that it’s staying that way.

Something shameful twists up in his stomach and Sundance drops his hand, steadies himself on his horse and grips the reins in both hands again. “There, maybe now you can shut up about it,” he says gruffly, and he pushes on, riding ahead of Butch instead of beside him.

After a moment, Butch rides up beside him again. “Now wait a minute-”

“What?” It’s the tone that with any other man wouldn’t invite conversation - but that’s never worked on Butch.

“You can’t just - pull something like that and ride away-”

“You’re the one always talking about it.”

“Yeah, but that was a joke!”

Sundance thinks of slow dancing in a hotel room with the shades down. He thinks of the feeling of Butch’s mouth against his shoulder, the tender skin of the back of Butch’s hand under his lips, the feeling of Butch’s hand pressed to his waist, of laughter against his neck. “I guess you learned your lesson, then.”

He urges his horse forward again, racing just out of Butch’s reach and staying there, all the way back to the ranch.

When they stop, Sundance climbs down off his horse and starts unloading the things they bought in town. He keeps his eyes on the bull as he guides it inside the fence, and on the ground if he has to, once the bull’s squared away. Anything to keep his eyes off of Butch.

“Now - Kid, just wait a minute, will you?”

Instead, Sundance goes inside, determined to put everything in its proper place.

“You can’t just -”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Sundance asks finally, turning just to glance at Butch before he goes back to putting the food away in the cabinets.

That makes Butch quiet for a minute or two. They both put the food away in silence.

Of course, Butch is also the one who can’t stand it anymore after just another minute. “Did you really do all that just to shut me up?”

That makes Sundance bristle - he feels stupid, and it’s a feeling he never liked. Embarrassed. “Well it didn’t work anyways. And what’s it matter, if it was all some kind of joke? Stupid thing to joke about, it’s not even funny.”

“Kid-” Butch says softly, but Sundance can’t take that right now either, doesn’t want tenderness when he hasn’t earned it, so he tries to walk past Butch and back outside, but Butch catches him by the wrist instead. “Harry.”

He stops, then. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what, use your name? You didn’t mind it in Reno.”

“It was different in Reno, it was-” Sundance doesn’t have the words. He yanks his arm out of Butch’s grip, tries to get his head in order, but he can’t. “Etta called me that. It’s funny to have people call me that.”

“And normally it’s part of the act.”

It’s not what Sundance meant. He never knows how to say what he means when it comes to things like this - not that there’s ever been a thing like this in his life, but he never knew how to talk to Etta, either. She just learned how to put up with it. Learned how to understand what he really meant. “I’m not like you, Butch. I couldn’t act if somebody had a gun to my head.”

Leaving that behind him, Sundance goes out onto the porch. He looks out, over the horizon, at their little spit of land. At the animals they’ve gathered out of pure dumb luck, grazing over in the dusty field. At their horses, tied over by the water trough. At the rough ground they might be able to till once there’s some rain, where they might be able to grow something if they try hard enough.

He can live without it. Not without Butch - never that. He can live, though, without the shimmering distant future he’d started to let himself imagine. Even if Butch does, now, ride into town from time to time to spend the night at a brothel when they’ve made enough money, more often than not he’ll be at home and Sundance will get to listen to him whistle in the morning when they wake up, and he can listen to Butch’s sleepy mumbling at night til they both pass out.

Maybe to ask for anything more than that was foolish.

Sundance watches as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. The sunset, at least, is beautiful from their front porch.

He hears footsteps behind him - and then Butch is outside. “I thought maybe you left.”

“And went where?” Sundance asks without turning around. “You’re the one that always says where we go, and I’d just wear out the horse riding around for no reason.”

“You could’ve gone back to town,” Butch suggests. He’s just standing there, when Sudance glances over, hands in his pockets. There’s at least two feet between them, maybe more. “Gone to a hotel for a night.”

“I’m not the one that speaks Spanish, remember?”

“Hell, it’s not like I really can either.”

“Well I didn’t leave. I’m still here. If you wanna leave, then you leave.”

“God dammit, Kid - you’re not stuck here, if you wanna go-”

“Of course I’m not stuck here, there’s a town in every goddamn direction, but if I say I’m staying, I’m staying, don’t try to talk me into leaving.”

“Well I’m not -” Butch stops, then. He shuffles closer to Sundance, then away again. “I don’t want you to leave. I just thought maybe you would.”

“Take a hell of a lot more than a stupid fight to get me to run off.”

“Right,” Butch says. With that, he steps closer. When Sundance doesn’t startle, or move away, Butch moves closer still. Finally, he wraps one arm around Sundance’s waist, hand resting on his stomach.

Sundance tenses, but he doesn’t move away. “If this is some kind of joke again-” he starts.

“I didn’t mean it was a joke, Kid. Not like that. I didn’t mean it. I just got - spooked. Like a horse.”

Though he snorts at that, Sundance can feel himself start to relax. He lets Butch take some of his weight, even as he keeps his arms crossed. “That’s a hell of a compliment.”

“You always have to be so stubborn?”

“Would we ever get anywhere if I wasn’t? One of us has to be practical.”

“Yeah, well, maybe not so practical.” Butch leans forward, hooking his chin over Sundance’s shoulder. 

Sighing, Sundance tilts his head to one side, leaning it against Butch’s, their temples pressed together. “If you just came out here to insult me, you can go back inside.”

“Does this seem like an insult?”

“No. How about you, then, feeling insulted?”

“Maybe a little. Maybe you oughta make it up to me, Kid.”

That gets a real laugh - but Butch always does, in the end. Sundance turns and presses his nose against Butch’s temple, foreheads pressed together at an angle. “You kiss a man once and he gets expectations.”

“Well I don’t know about just any man. But I certainly do.”

“I always have to do all the work around here,” Sundance grumbles, but he finally puts his hands on Butch’s waist and pulls him closer, tugging him around so they’re face to face.

Butch comes easy, and lets one of his hands fall to the back of Sundance’s neck. “Bitch, bitch, bitch,” he murmurs with obvious fondness - and that’s when Sundance decides to shut him up.

He ducks his head, and catches Butch’s mouth in another kiss, and this time he lingers. It’s softer than he was while they were still on their horses - but it makes him all twisted up and nervous all over again, like Butch is going to change his mind, pull back and laugh.

He doesn’t, though. Not now that he’s asked for it. He keeps his hand there on the back of Sundance’s neck, then pushes it up into his hair, and he kisses slowly, like they’ve got all the time in the world. More than that - he kisses like he’s savoring it.

He’d always thought Butch seemed to kiss like he could take it or leave it, at least when Sundance watched him do it with any woman in a hotel or a brothel. He liked it, sure, but it was all just a part of the process in a place like that.

Now, it feels like Butch would be happy enough just to stand here and kiss him all night. He brushes his mouth over the roughness of Sundance’s mustache, then moves back down, bites just gently at Sundance’s lip, coaxes him into another open-mouthed kiss. It’s warm and comfortable and easy, almost like a conversation.

“I wouldn’t have known it back there, but you’re a hell of a kisser,” Butch says, and he sounds half-drunk when he mumbles the words against Sundance’s mouth.

“Should have kissed me back, you’d have found out sooner.”

“Hours wasted,” he agrees - and then he trails off into a hum as Sundance moves to kiss the line of his jaw, to follow the stubble down his neck.

Butch’s collar is unbuttoned, wide open down to his chest, so Sundance follows the line of his collarbone to the hollow of his throat and buries his face there, kissing at first, then just resting his head, taking a deep breath.

It’s easier to talk like this when Butch can’t see his face.

“About earlier-”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, Kid, I got the message.”

Sundance sighs, relieved by all the things he doesn’t have to try and say - Butch understands. “You can call me Harry. Just if you want to. Even if we’re not in town. Maybe not all the time.”

“Probably not all the time. And I don’t mean to not offer you reciprocity, but-”

“Robert’s a terrible name. Doesn’t suit you at all. Neither does Leroy.”

Butch laughs, then. Sundance can feel the sound of it there at his throat, so he lifts his head up to watch instead. Butch makes eye contact just to grin at him. “At least I know you still won’t beat around the bush with me, no matter what.”

“I wouldn’t know how to flatter anyone if I tried.”

“Well I don’t know about that - but you certainly have your own way of it, and that’s good enough for me.”

“Think that’s enough talking for now,” Sundance mutters, and he tips forward to kiss Butch again, distracting him from whatever he might have tried to say next.

Out on a porch in the middle of nowhere, they’re unlikely to catch anyone’s eye. They don’t have regular visitors, and their neighbors don’t know them yet, and there’s plenty of land all around them besides. Still, they stumble into the house together all the same, yanking at shirt buttons and belt buckles, both striving towards the same goal without needing to trade words about it.

They make it onto the bed almost by accident more than anything. It’s mostly just that it’s easier to land on than the floor.

Neither one of them has any idea of the exact mechanics of what they’re doing, but neither of them seem bothered by it, either. Sundance certainly isn’t. None of that could be further from his mind when all he can think about is that he finally has the freedom to touch, as much as he wants, however he wants, for as long as Butch is going to let him.

He skims his hands up Butch’s arms to his shoulders, ducks his head and presses his mouth to the center of Butch’s chest, right over his heartbeat. Butch’s hands settle in his hair, and Sundance just lingers there a moment, to breathe.

He settles in the cradle of Butch’s hips, pressing as much of himself against as much of Butch as possible.

Butch is no better, really. His hands slide up and down Sundance’s back, restless, and as the two of them move together, he’s the one that reaches down and wraps a hand around both of them, easing the way for them to rub against each other.

It’s rough and sweaty - but it’s slow, too. Tender in a way that Sundance hadn’t expected. As they go on, Sundance settles on his elbows and presses his forehead against Butch’s - then tilts his head just so he can kiss him again.

They share breaths like that for a while, moving and shifting, and when Butch breathes out, Sundance breathes in, until they’re gasping into each other’s mouths, finally still.

It’s dark outside by the time they settle on the bed, completely spent.

Sundance has one of his legs hooked over one of Butch’s, and Butch has his hand on the back of Sundance’s neck.

“You know what I wish?” Butch mutters.

“What?”

“I wish we had a window, right here above the bed, so we could still see the stars.”

For a moment, Sundance can picture it. It seems nice. Instead, he mutters, “After all that bitching you did on the boat?”

Butch knocks his heel against Sundance’s ankle. “Oh, hush. The bad part about sleeping in the rough is the ground, not the sky. You know that as well as I do. If you could see it from a bed, it’d be nice. Remind us of all that without us having to go lay on the ground. I think I’ve had enough of sleeping in the dirt to last me a lifetime.”

“It is pretty nice to have a bed of our own.” Sundance, then, thinks about how hard it would be to climb up on the roof and do the work. It might not be too bad, if the weather was good, and he found the right people to talk to in town.

Maybe after they make some money. Maybe when Butch’s birthday comes around.

“Remind me some time we’re in town. I’ll ask someone.”

“About what?”

Sundance snorts. “About the window.”

“Oh.”

Just like that, Sundance falls asleep, before Butch can even start to ramble again.

The bad thing about falling asleep all tangled up is that when Butch is the first one up, he wakes Sundance in the process.

Sundance grumbles into the pillow - but Butch just leans down and kisses him on the back of the neck - and maybe it’s not all bad.

They’ll have a long day ahead, now they’ve got their supplies and their animals. They’ll have to make their own brand somehow, set up the barn, start thinking about where they’ll plant and how.

For the moment, though, Sundance can smell the coffee as Butch goes about making it, and he can lay there with his eyes closed til Butch comes back and pulls him out of bed. And the work isn’t half as bad with Butch whistling or telling stories the whole time, no matter how much both of them love to complain, too.

And maybe - maybe someday they’ll get bored, and they’ll pull another job. For now, though - for now, Sundance can’t imagine getting bored with what he’s got.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest thing i have written since december. it was a labor of both love and diligence but also of just ajskdlfmasdf i rewatched butch cassidy for the first time in a few years and then butch and sundance were just. living in my head rent free and i decided to write this.
> 
> for some unknowable reason, this is currently, terrifyingly, the longest fic in the butch and sundance tag so uh. if you made it to the end, congratulations and also thank you. tell me what you liked! i'd love to hear any feedback.
> 
> if you, like me, just happen to rewatch the movie and go haunting the tag i really would love to hear your thoughts. thanks for reading, though, either way.


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